Mr. Coyne
Andrew Coyne’s Dad has passed away.
I didn’t know Andrew’s Dad. But when my own Dad died – eight years, three months and 28 days ago – I was drowning in grief. I could not breathe.
Andrew and I weren’t close friends or anything, back then. I didn’t understand him all that well; intelligent conservatives have that effect on me.
But Andrew took me to lunch, and I admit I was having a bit of a hard time keeping it together. Despite that, it was apparent to me that this was a son who also loved his father, a lot. You could tell.
If Andrew sees this, this is the only insight I have to offer him: things aren’t the same, afterwards. You stay sad, but it gets a bit less sad as time goes by.
Also, you need to remember him in every achievement you have, on every single day you have left.
And this: I didn’t know your Dad. But I know he must have been pretty proud to have a son like you.